ll. Really and tru--truly I don't," faltered
Helen, beginning to cry again.

Gail and Ruth also disclaimed any knowledge of the verse, except that
it had been put into their hands by Rose. They had read it, copied it,
written notes about it and discussed it.

"You three girls may go home now," said Miss Hill, sadly.

The girls hastily filed out and passed the scornful Bessy Bell with
averted heads.

"Rose, can you explain the notes found in your possession?" asked the
teacher.

"Yes, Miss Hill. They were written to me by different boys and girls,"
replied Rose.

"Why do you seem to have all these writings addressed to you?"

"I didn't get any more than any other girl. But I wasn't afraid to
keep mine."

"Do you know where these verses came from, before Helen had them?"

"Yes, Miss Hill."

"Then you know who wrote them?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I won't tell," replied Rose, deliberately. She looked straight into
her teacher's eyes.

"You refuse when I've assured you I'll be lenient?" demanded Miss
Hill.

"I'm no tattletale." Rose's answer was sullen.

"Rose, I ask you again. A great deal depends on your answer. Will you
tell me?"

The girl's lip curled. Then she laughed in a way that made Miss Hill
think of her as older. But she kept silent.

"Rose, you're expelled until further notice." Miss Hill's voice
trembled with disappointment and anger. "You may go now."

Rose gathered up her books and went into the cloakroom. The door in
the outer hall opened and closed.

"Miss Hill, it wasn't fair!" exclaimed Bessy Bell, hotly. "It wasn't
fair. Rose is no worse than the other girls. She's not as bad, for she
isn't sly and deceitful. There were a dozen girls who lied when they
went out. Helen lied. Ruth lied. Gail lied. But Rose told the truth so
far as she went. And she wouldn't tell all because she wanted to
shield me."

"Why did she want to shield you?"

"Because I wrote the verses."

"You mean you copied them?"

"I composed them," Bessy replied coolly. Her blue eyes fearlessly met
Miss Hill's gaze.

"Bessy Bell!" ejaculated the teacher.

The girl stood before her desk and from the tip of her dainty boot to
the crown of her golden hair breathed forth a strange, wilful and
rebellious fire.

Miss Hill's lips framed to ask a certain question of Bessy, but she
refrained and substituted another.

"Bessy, how old are you?"

"Fifteen last April."

"Have you any intelligent idea of--do you know--